"An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in.
A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves."
~Bill Vaughn

Times Square Earth Cam...'stead of going into the sea of humanity on New Year's Eve...click here from a sane distance...because unless you just love that claustrophobic, crowded in, stop touching me (with that thing...you freaky stranger) feeling...you'll be better off anywhere else...

Here's wishing you all a happy & healthy New Year...

I'll be back with a vengeance next year.

(I took a pic of the sign my niece made by the kid's table...it just kills me.)

I hope everyone had a good holiday. I've decided to only tell you the good parts of mine...I'm leaving the STRESS (I did it to myself this year?!), the nasty comments & the rudeness out. Why would I do such a thing...when all of those things make for the best stories later? I have no clue...but consider it all done in the Christmas spirit, k?

There was lots of visiting to be done, lots of presents to give & receive, lots of hugs & kisses. My niece gave me a charm bracelet that she made (it has a million charms & each one means something...she told me about ALL of them). It touched me that she gave me a present at all...to have a child "get it" & know what it all means & what matters...at such a young age makes me get all weepy...but I'm done now (yeah, right)...I'm wearing the bracelet now & every time I type, it brushes the keyboard & makes a noise...but I'm still not taking it off.

Dayuuuum...I missed a fine Half Nekkid Thursday...now didn't I? It could have been 'cuz I didn't want to show of my annual Christmas zit (that grew as the day progressed)...that's my story & I'm sticking to it. It's not a vanity thing, really, it isn't...I just didn't think you'd like to see this giant thing that kinda overtook me...it was gross. I tried in vain to cover it with concealer...but it ended up looking like an even bigger zit that was now caked with gunk...I'm telling you...it threatened to overtake me & cause my ultimate destruction. I was going to cover it with a bandaid...but who would I have been kidding?> > So I decided to celebrate it instead, I took it to lunch at a swanky restaurant (it ordered the soup du jour...as you can imagine...it was not the wisest of choices), Everyone I came into contact with it found it fascinating, they didn't look into my eyes when they spoke to me, they looked directly at this supercollosal thing that I'd brought along for the ride. I wanted to say...STOP LOOKING AT MY ZIT...I know it's distracting (like looking at a car wreck...or Paris Hilton's non existent but always in your face breasts)...you're drawn to look & can't seem to turn away.

Cut to today. I'm working from home, wrapping gifts, cleaning the house, making fudge, doing piles of laundry & generally enjoying the half-assed job of multitasking it takes to get it all done. More importantly, my zit friend has shrunk to down to the size of a small spud (1/8 the size it was yesterday) so it seems that things MAY be going in the right direction after all.

I hope that everyone out there has the nicest, most kick ass holiday time...I'm going to try my best to make mine not suck & generally banish all the zit inspiring stress that sometimes comes with it all (I'm in denial that fudge may cause zits...it's a sad world if this is true).

Have a Happy & Merry whatever you celebrate...

Welcome to the shortest day of the year (am I glad it's a work day & not a weekend day...yup).

Happy Winter Solstice Day to you & yours (precisely at 1:35 P.M. EST...get up & celebrate). I feel cold just thinking about all that earth tilting away from the sun stuff...brrrr.

OK, along with the shortest day today...you guessed it...comes the longest night of the year...after this...they begin to get shorter...good thing? I ask you?

OK...cutting to the heart of the matter...why do I feel the need to post at all today...when I obviously have nothing much to say (& have less time to say it)?

If I were being tested...
& it was one of those...
confounding multiple choice exams...
My answer would have to be...
B...always B...
No...wait!...Can I change it to C?
If C is...all of the above...
& D is none of the above...
Gotta go with C...right?

Does it even matter?

I haven't talked to Dick much lately...
Our last conversation consisted of him telling me
about how one of his coworkers was fired for fudging his own overtime...
After telling me the story...
he blurted out that I wasn't listening (I was...sheesh) & that was it.

Yesterday, as I was out shopping, I text messaged him (oooh baby):

Chick: Go J.E.T.S?!

Dick: Blow me?

Now...was that necessary? (The Jets were losing 7 - nothing at that point.)

When I was in grade school (not grad school...I assure you, this story would have a different ending, if this happened in grad school). I loved Mrs. M's art class the best. We'd march into her classroom & proceed to make the biggest mess. She called it creativity & I thought she was so cool for calling it that. She loved to see us create. We'd paint & make clay blobs & she thought it was all good for our souls.

Everyone loved that class...everyone except Scott M. He claimed that it was all stupid...then would proceed to eat paste. I'm not kidding, I saw him do it. He saw me see him slip his chubby, bully fingers covered with white goop, into his hateful mouth & instead of being embarrassed, he resorted to meanness. He stomped over to me & kicked me in my shin. My first thought wasn't outrage or anger...it was self preservation & pride. He wasn't going to see me cry! That's what he wanted. That would have made his stupid-little-boy heart happy & I didn't want that. I bent down & rubbed my shin. I remember the details to this day. I was wearing a blue dress with yellow tights (fashion sense be damned). I had slashes of red & white paint on my tights from dramatically running out of paper & continuing my masterpiece on my legs.

When he didn't see tears, he got even more upset. He called me names. I still didn't cry. Then he came up with one that hit the mark. He called me Dr. Jekyll (my initials were DJ...so stinking cleaver of the kid). Don't ask me why this got to me, maybe I thought he was calling me an ugly monster & my little girl self didn't want to be seen that way. Whatever the reason it got to me, it did & he knew it. He laughed & called me that again, his toadies called me that & collapsed in fits of laughter.

I've never been a tattle tale...so going to Mrs. M...was never an option. This was my battle & she couldn't fix it for me. I endured this treatment for days. The laughing, the pointing, the crying in the girl's room. My friends said that he was a jerk. Don't sweat it, they said...but I couldn't let a paste eater win.

I thought about it all until a light bulb went off in my head...aha...I've got just the thing to call him. It's creative & clever & artfully constructed...yes...he'd hate it & his friends would laugh...perfect.

His full name was Scott Mikus...from that day until he & his family moved away in the 8th grade...he was forever known as Snot Mucus.

I was so proud of myself.

Baby, it's cold outside.

Happy HNT (stay warm).

In the continuing spirit of the holidays...let the half nekkid men keep coming...

What would you do (heartbreaking, isn't it)?  

All this talk of showers got me to thinking about the only good shower (sort of) I've ever attended. We planned a baby shower for Eva...at the time...we were coworkers. Come to think of it, for someone who hates showers as truly much as I do, I've planned a helluva lot of the damn things.

As I was talking to Eva's Mom, talk turned to what would truly make a splash at the shower. A stripper...I blurted. Good thing Eva's Mom was a cool chick...'cuz she just thought that her daughter would totally dig that idea (& who wouldn't?).

Hate showers? Yeah, throw in a naked dancing man (or two) & things might just be looking up after all...& as luck would have it...another coworker stripped when he wasn't working with me (seriously, what a great way to make extra cash...if you got what it takes...& I assumed that he did).

The day of the shower came & much to my amusement...lots of attendees brought their small children. We surprised Eva & all was going dreadfully well (I could have been in a coma by this point...if I didn't know what was coming...that is). All of a sudden, the lights mysteriously dimmed & music filled the air. Out of nowhere, Victor (the young stripper in question) dances his way suggestively into view.. He grabs Eva & the two of them start boogying on down. Victor starts doing that whole...slide down her body thing...that strippers do...but he forgets to account for her large bump & finds himself with whiplash on the floor. We are all laughing as he gets up & starts dancing, smiling & (oh, by the way) removing his clothes.

This should be a requirement of all showers...Aunt Betty with the pacemaker would get a nice jump start out of some strutting, shimmying, naked flesh, I just know she would.

As one of the girls was leaving, I hear her 5 year old son ask her who that dancing man was...I lost it when she said...he was a clown...tell daddy that they had a dancing clown here today.

I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. The reason? I was backed into a small (unpleasant) corner & had no choice but to not only go to a baby shower...but actually ended up helping to plan this one as well.

The thing is...I truly hate showers of any kind. Please tell me how four hours of ooooh-ing & aaaa-ing at someone else opening presents in the midst of a room full of women only...can possibly be anything but torturous ag-on-ny.

The shower was for my cousin...who I love more than words. That’s why I was there...that & the fact that my psycho mother pulled out her bag of guilt (she’s got a bag of tricks too...but she’s saving that for another day).

First came the arguing...who wanted to sit near who (whom?). So, I asked the waitress to refill the wine glasses every ten minutes (& keep it flowing). That worked to keep the peace until present time. Then the chair shifting started as everyone jockeyed for a perfect view of the loot. At this point I would have happily snuck off & visited the bar...but Mom had seen my rudeness before & would have none of it...she gave me the look that said she’d be DISAPPOINTED in my moral fiber if I pulled that shit (my word, not hers...never hers).

So, I stayed & ENDURED. Aunt Maggie knit the most darling baby blanket & cousin Marie dug deep for a Tiffany spoon. What do YOU resort to as a defense mechanism against such inhuman torture? Me? My mind turned to the sweet sex I’d rather be having...but when all that squirming in my chair started earning stares I thought I’d better stop immediately.

I turned to the women who were sitting by me & asked who they thought would win The Heisman (total change from the sex that was on my mind...drastic times call for...well...you know). They looked at me like I didn’t belong there.

Yep...that’s certainly what I thought.

I'm doing my new shoe dance...can't you tell?

I'm up to my 20th HNT...holy crap.

Why do new shoes make me so happy?

These are the shoes I ended up buying on Friday...not the one's I wanted...but I love them nonetheless.



They were on sale & only a half a size too big.

I may have a shoe sickness (obsession...does that sound better?) I'm not one to try to put a bow on mental illness & make it sound pretty.

My deranged distraction knows no bounds lately. I unwittingly inserted shoes into most of my conversations yesterday & I thought about it later & came to the conclusion that I may have a disorder.

In a morning meeting yesterday...I stared at the only other woman in the room's DKNY boots for half an hour...lust turned into craving...ok...maybe I was just itching to have them for my very own.

At the gym I asked the girl standing next to me in the locker room...where she got her little black slides...OMG...too cute with their little black tassels...no, I thought, I already have something like that (she got them at Banana Republic...I'm using my vast supplies of willpower to just stay away from that store for now)...but still...

On my way home I had a cell phone conversation with a cutie-loo who said that he had a presentation to make today. I came up with the wisdom for him to make sure that he wore nice shoes...as I hung up I thought...what the hell is wrong with me? Is it all about amusing myself...or do I truly have an affliction?

I sat on a park bench & read my book. It was lunch time & it was chilly.

Across the way a homeless woman walked up to a bench & sat down. She looked over & shouted something my way. All I heard was something about toast...huh? She was holding up some bread & shouting at me...seems she wanted to break bread with me...better yet...it was toast...how lovely.

I shouted a...no thanks...her way & went back to my book. Big mistake (what was I thinking anyway? Shouting anything at homeless people can only mean that I was asking for trouble...I've always known that...why the brain freeze?). She got up & started walking towards me...crap...was she gonna make me eat toast with her? Not really what I wanted to do...who knows where that toast had been?

She sat down on my bench...saying nothing...she started ripping up the toast & throwing it on the ground. Within minutes a million pigeons descended & snatched up the bread. She looked at me & offered me bread. As I took it from her hands I noticed she had chipped red nail polish. It was the prettiest shade of red. She also had extravagant gold earrings on (none of it went with the layers of greyish dirty clothes she wore...none of it). Was this woman living a normal life a few days ago or do homeless people usually have manicured nails & expensive jewelry? (quite honestly, I usually don't get close enough to notice such things about sulkers on the street).

As I sat there ripping up bread with this woman on my lunch hour...in the middle of New York City...I felt like I'd never judge anyone again...yeah, right...I've been reborn as some kind of a kind & loving nun like woman who loves everyone she comes in contact with...sure.

I left after my bread was all gobbled up by the birds & my mind had made up a thousand stories as to how that woman came to be homeless with elegance. Maybe she was hit on the head & forgot that she was some heiress that lived in style in a penthouse overlooking Central Park (have I been watching Lifetime too much again?).

As I started to walk away...I heard the filthiest stream of obscenities pour from the homeless diva's mouth...stuff that would make a sailor blush...I walked faster & didn't look back.

I spent my lunch hour with a crazy lady in the park...how pitifully cool am I?

Happy Monday. I am lucky enough to have a three day weekend behind me & one coming up as well. My day off Friday was spent almost finishing up my Christmas shopping & searching for those damn shoes. I actually found them in both Macy's & Bloomingdales. I was thrilled until I'd ask the salesgirl for a size 5...both times she'd check in the back & both times they came back empty handed. The salesgirl in Bloomies was tall & blond with legs up to here...she looked down at me when I requested she search for my size & decidedly declared that I was lucky to wear such a small size...nice try, honey...I thought...but I can never seem to find the shoes I covet in my size...no matter how you slice it...that's not luck.

In Macy's the display shoe happened to be a size 6. I waited till no one was looking...then threw off my shoe & tried it on. Oh, that damn shoe was lovely...but unfortunately, I looked like I was wearing my mother's shoes...I'd have to wear them with sweat socks to make them fit (not a great look...I assure you) OR I'd have to stuff them full if tissues (other people stuff other areas...why not shoes too?).

I ended up at Ann Taylor & found the most beautiful pair of retro looking shoes on sale. The display model was my exact size. I asked the salesgirl for the other shoes & walla...I was happy once again. I'll see if I can capture their beauty for HNT...I'll certainly try my best...you're gonna love 'em.

******************

On another note, we got our first snow fall of any significance this weekend. Not enough for the snow blower...so we ended up shoveling. I went on a manic tear...I figured I needed the exercise. I did half the drive & all of mine & my neighbor's sidewalk...I was a shoveling machine. Later that day, the area above my right armpit hurt like hell...little shooting pains...ouch. For a slight second I got all nuts on myself...has I having a stroke? I didn't even connect the fact that I hurt because I'd shoveled earlier. Ever scare yourself completely...for about a second...like that...over nothing?

I have the day off today. How glorious to have a whole day laid out before me. Of course I have a TO DO list the size of Connecticut...all things I'm aiming to get done. There's the usual laundry, cleaning, screw the mail man...ok...I threw that last one in just to liven up the list (my mailman is actually on the old side & I secretly think he steals my magazines & gives me the wrong mail on purpose...all part of some evil plot to get me to stop reading trash & go meet my neighbors).

I also have massive amounts of Christmas shopping yet to do. My nieces want pocketbooks, Hubby wants satellite radio (which one is better for sports...XM or Sirius...can anyone help me out here?) & I am on a hunt to find these very shoes...or something like them.



I found them online...but alas, they did not come in my size. Should I be out there shopping for you today? What should I be searching for? I want an iPod (hint, hint) in case you were wondering.

Before I start any of this...it's off to the library for me...I feel a need to feed my inner geek. I was going to list all the badass books I want here...but really...I'll spare you for now.

The loverly Mel inspired me to try my hand at a panty shot...Happy HNT.

I was going to write an ode to simple white panties...but as you can see...I came up with nothing...